


Right Place, Right Time

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Inappropriate Erections, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:16:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "i thought about you yesterday. i was at my weekly massage (great job perk!) and i thought that you should write a story about kurt/blaine working as a masseur and the other one is a client and stuff get intense when they get turned on and have to have sex ;)"</p><p>I went with chiropractor instead of masseuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Place, Right Time

**Author's Note:**

> For [dreamyblaineanderson](http://dreamyblaineanderson.tumblr.com/).

"Mr. Anderson? The doctor will see you now."

Blaine follows--okay, more like hobbles gracefully after--the nurse from the waiting room into the warren of small hallways at the back of the doctor's office. 

"Change into this, okay, and the doctor will be right in." She smiles at him in a rehearsed sort of way and he nods, waiting a few moments after she's gone to shimmy into the paper-thin hospital gown.

It's his first time at the chiropractor, and he's sort of glad that he wasn't given a choice; doctors make him nervous, and the fact that he'd completely screwed up his neck during rehearsals had forced his hand.

The last thing he expects is for the doctor to be drop dead gorgeous. A tall, slender man with fabulous hair and shockingly blue-green eyes enters the room, tucking a pen into his pocket and sticking out a hand. His skin is so white that for a moment Blaine can't distinguish between his coat and his flesh.

"Hello there, Mr. Anderson--I'm Dr. Hummel."

Blaine shakes his hand. For much longer than necessary. While staring. "Um. Blaine. You can call me Blaine."

He smiles. "Blaine. Hello."

The conversation that follows is wonderfully dry and academic in that it forces Blaine to stop staring at Dr. Hummel's unearthly beauty at least for small stretches at a time. Of course then there's his gorgeous hands to observe.

They discuss Blaine's medical history and Dr. Hummel takes his blood pressure and tests his reflexes. Only then do they discuss the actual pain and how he got it, and Dr. Hummel gently moves his limbs and touches his muscles at odd places for a long while before settling on any one spot in particular.

"I just--I need to know how long this is going to take to heal. We open in a month, and if I'm not able to keep up with the rehearsal schedule I may have to bow out. It's my first leading role, and I--I want to be able to see it through, you know?"

"I understand," Dr. Hummel says, gently rotating Blaine's arm. "I used to perform, myself."

Blaine smiles, watching him out of the corner of his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes. That's why Anita sent you to me. We're old friends."

"This is terribly intrusive, but do you mind me asking why you stopped?"

"I was injured," Dr. Hummel replies, voice gone just a little distant. "I didn't recover well enough to go back to it. But in the meantime I met an amazing physical therapist who introduced me to the wonderful world of helping people, and it changed my life. Been doing it ever since." He freezes. "Okay, tell me how this feels."

This goes on for about a half hour, and it's all relatively clinical; Blaine doesn't think much of it (though he is very interested in Dr. Hummel himself), but eventually he does start to feel amazing bursts of brief pain and release as the doctor hones in on a certain spot.

"There we go," Dr. Hummel breathes, feeling him tense up. "I think we've found the trouble." He pauses to scribble notes on his pad, and then turns back to the table. "Lie down on your side, please?"

Blaine does, and blinks into space when he feels the doctor half climb onto the table behind him, steady his leg with one hand and his shoulder with the other, and push against the middle of his back with a knee.

"Oh my god," he breathes, hearing something audibly pop. 

Dr. Hummel keeps pushing, but it's softer after that, and Blaine realizes how awkward it is, as well; it's an strangely intimate position, and he's having a strangely intimate reaction.

"Okay," Dr. Hummel says, scooting off the table. "On your stomach?"

Blaine rolls over, wincing as his burgeoning erection is squashed against the examining table. 

"I think that will make a huge difference," the doctor says, fingers searching as he tilts Blaine's head this way and that. "But to start I have some exercises I'd like you to do once a day. I also have some topical medications that will help, and I can give you some very light pain medication as well."

Blaine stares blankly down. "That's--great. I feel about ten times more mobile than I did when I came in here today. Thank you."

"Alrighty," Dr. Hummel says, smiling. He sits at the small desk and begins scribbling. "You can get dressed, I'll just be a second writing these up for you."

"Um." He's hard as a rock against the unforgiving vinyl. "Okay, this is--completely embarrassing. Could I have a moment alone?"

Dr. Hummel looks at him, concerned. "Are you in pain? You shouldn't be."

Blaine stares into those beautiful eyes, feeling his face flush with blood. "Um. Not that kind of problem. Sort of, the opposite?" He looks down, laughing. "I'm sorry, it's--"

Dr. Hummel's eyes widen for just a fraction of a second, and an equally brief grin tugs the corners of his mouth up. He gets himself under control almost instantly, though, and looks down for a second before looking back up at Blaine. "That's--perfectly normal, Mr. Anderson. Happens all the time. I'll be by the front desk when you're--ah, ready."

Once the doctor is gone Blaine rolls over onto his back and groans, palming his erection and squeezing it, hard. He's certainly not going to indulge himself here, so he waits until it goes down and hurries to take care of the paperwork; he doesn't even look Dr. Hummel in the eye before scurrying out the door, a handful of prescriptions fluttering uselessly in his jacket pocket.

 

*

 

All of his follow-up visits are with another doctor. The office simply tells him that Dr. Hummel is unavailable. It's disappointing, but he supposes he'd been silly to think that the young doctor had found him charming and/or attractive in any personal way; he'd just had a pleasant manner, and the only truth that Blaine comes out of it with is that he really, really needs a boyfriend. It's been too long.

Of course, there's no time for that; rehearsal runs him into the ground and before he can even really prepare himself his friends and family are arriving to watch his Broadway debut.

It goes off amazingly well, just a few technical glitches and missed cues that the audience never even notices.

His dressing room is overflowing with people and flowers, but Anita does pull him aside long enough to shove a flute of champagne in his hand and whisper in his ear, "Don't look now, but a mutual friend of ours is in attendance."

Blaine is sweaty and still seeing bright spots from the stage lights shining in his eyes all night, and so he squints around between gulps of bubbly alcohol. It's only when she nudges him distinctly in one direction that he sees Dr. Hummel standing off in a corner all by himself.

"You didn't," he breathes, eyeing her.

"Can you keep a secret?" She smiles. "He asked about you. Now stop pestering an old woman and go get him."

"Oh my god, he's my chiropractor, you old hussy," Blaine sighs. "Here. Hold my roses." He ducks to kiss her cheek. "I love you."

She smirks and watches him go.

He wipes his hands on a handkerchief that he's been clutching since he stepped backstage, and feels relatively composed as he steps up to Dr. Hummel, who is looking stunning in a tuxedo.

"Blaine," he says, trying to sound surprised.

Blaine grins. "Doctor--"

"Kurt," he says. "Kurt. Sorry, you didn't get a card?"

He actually had never picked one up; someone at the theater company had made the appointment and he'd been too in pain to notice upon arrival and too flustered upon exit to remember to take a card.

"No, I--no. Kurt." He grabs a champagne flute from a passing waiter and slides it into Kurt's hand. "I'm not going to ask you what you thought of the play. I don't want to spoil things just yet."

Kurt laughs. "It was excellent and you know it. You're very talented." He sips from his glass. "I'm glad we got that out of the way." He slides an arm through Blaine's and they begin to take a turn around the edge of the room. "When we last saw each other, you seemed a little--rattled."

Blaine blames the champagne and endorphins when what comes out of his mouth next is, "I'm sure it's not the first time that you've turned someone on like that."

"It doesn't happen as often as you'd think," Kurt replies.

"You said it was normal!"

"When there's an interested gay man on the table, sure," Kurt replies with a coy smirk.

Blaine stops in his tracks and laughs, smacking Kurt's arm. "Alright, see if I ever bring my pain to your doorstep again--"

Kurt grins, pressing their hips together. His fingers dance lightly, almost out of sight, down along the small of Blaine's back. "Actually, I was hoping to bring you to an entirely different doorstep. For an entirely different purpose."

And Blaine grins, emptying his glass. "Point the way, Doctor."


End file.
